


To Carry and Care For

by Raikishi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Healing Sex, Kneeling, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25999645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raikishi/pseuds/Raikishi
Summary: “You said you would take care of this beast, did you not?” so angrily spoken Byleth nearly misses the way his words waver at the edges, desperate longing clawing up at the corners. Nearly misses the little uncertain way Dimitri quivers and refuses to meet his eyes.Dimitri turns away from him, expression drawn with hurt as he breathes out a slow breath. Something darker starts to pull over him again.And with startling clarity, Byleth understands the request for what it is.Post-Gronder, Byleth takes care of DimitriM!Dimileth week, day 2: post-timeskip
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 9
Kudos: 152





	To Carry and Care For

“I will not allow you to be alone tonight,” Byleth says when the anger drains away from Dimitri, leaving behind a shattered, grieving prince. He throws his arms around Dimitri, holding fast, as if he could physically stop him from vanishing to Enbarr, "Please ... let me take care of you. If only for tonight.”

Something flares in Dimitri’s expression, intense as a Thoron bolt. Something low simmering but so desperate Byleth feels it on his skin like a physical thing. Dimitri sags into his arms, his enormous bulk a dead weight on Byleth’s shoulders. A weight he was more than willing to carry. 

Byleth tracks out a shiver in Dimitri’s spine, slipping his hands beneath the cape to hold his waist. Their armor clangs together but he holds tight regardless, squeezing in the hopes that Dimitri can feel it.

He doesn’t think Dimitri cries but it is difficult to tell with the rain. 

Something wet and tacky smears from the fur cloak onto Byleth’s cheeks, dirt and grime and who knows what else mixing with rainwater and releasing a pungent reek that made even Byleth bristle. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He maneuvers them both to the bathhouse with shocking ease. Dimitri doesn’t even resist when Byleth takes his armor. Doesn’t make a single noise of protest when Byleth strips him naked. 

“Can you clean yourself?” Byleth asks as he removes his own armor. 

The faintest frown creases Dimitri’s brow. He stares, saying nothing for a moment so long, Byleth worries he’s looking for the ghosts again.

“Dimitri?”

The prince pulls away when Byleth reaches out to touch. His mouth twists, twitching as if ready to start an argument but he offers only a curt nod and walks away, spine rigid.

With no small amount of concern, Byleth watches, unwilling to take his eyes off the man. Dimitri makes no effort to run, instead, carrying out his given task dutifully. He picks off the worst of the dirt and grime from his skin and then dunks a wooden bucket into the bath to dump water over his head. Byleth tracks long waves down Dimitri’s back, watching the droplets traverse the field of scars, racing down towards –

Dimitri’s shoulders hunch, his head bowing low as he clears his throat.

“Oh,” Byleth blinks, “Sorry.”

He averts his eyes. He hadn’t meant to stare so openly. He also hadn’t expected Dimitri to be embarrassed. The base emotion smears away at the raging beast Dimitri wore as close as his cloak and Byleth aches at the memory of a prince who’d blushed and sputtered at how revealing the dancer’s garb had been.

“If you do not think I am capable,” Dimitri says the words with a rough growl, speaking so quietly Byleth nearly misses them, “Then perhaps you should take care of me, Professor.”

Byleth blinks. The words are nearly belligerent, rotted through with that rough snarl and looming threat Dimitri waved about the cathedral rubble; but, there’s something else there. A faint thread Byleth cannot put his finger to. At the silence, Dimitri’s shoulders hunch further, the faintest tremble to his shoulders. 

“Dimitri?”

The man shakes his head on a snarl, throwing the wooden bucket to the side with too much force. It splinters against the wall and Byleth frowns, “Forget it.”

Definitely belligerent this time. Dimitri trembles with something near anger as he runs soap over his body, movements rough and careless. Byleth grimaces when Dimitri’s nails draw long scores of red over pale skin, sees him digging into the underside of his arm – 

“Dimitri.”

Byleth’s call is ignored. Dimitri dunks himself in the bath, blatantly drowning out Byleth and that –

Byleth storms over to the prince, physically grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him out. A mutinous scowl settles over Dimitri’s mouth when he emerges, blue eye narrowed in annoyance. He’s left the eyepatch on, Byleth notes and frowns at the way it’s soaking up water and clinging to Dimitri’s face. It’s a wonder that injury hadn’t festered and eaten him alive in those five years. 

“What did you say before?” Byleth demands and the scowl turns into a full snarl, Dimitri dragging at old hurt to shape a glower.

“ _You_ said you would take care of this beast, did you not?” so angrily spoken Byleth nearly misses the way his words waver at the edges, desperate longing clawing up at the corners. Nearly misses the little uncertain way Dimitri quivers and refuses to meet his eyes.

Dimitri turns away from him, expression drawn with hurt as he breathes out a slow breath. Something darker starts to pull over him again. 

And with startling clarity, Byleth understands the request for what it is. He reaches for his prince, pulls him from his warpath yet again.  


“I did, didn’t I?” Byleth breathes out, grabbing Dimitri’s chin and holding him steady. 

He tugs the eyepatch away, quick enough that by the time Dimitri grabs his wrist, it’s already been tossed to the side. 

“Sit,” Byleth instructs, shoving Dimitri back down into the bathwater. 

The prince goes, his expression slack with surprise, eye twitching as he watches Byleth strip. He makes a choked sound when Byleth removes his underwear, gaze dropping away. The gesture so charmingly like the prince he was raised to be, Byleth can’t help the little rush of affection that goes through him. 

Unthinking, Byleth reaches out to drop a kiss over the scarred eye, moving his lips over feathered lashes and rough scars. His chest aches at the half-sobbed gasp Dimitri lets out. The prince holds Byleth's hips, fingers trekking cautiously up his back in a gentle hold as if he were not certain he was allowed. As if Byleth were the one made of porcelain instead of Dimitri. 

“Professor –,” a low shocked noise as if Byleth had punched the title from Dimitri’s belly.

“You’ll let me take care of you, won’t you?” Byleth interrupts before he can hear more protests.

Dimitri’s throat works, the apple bobbing as he turns over a reply. Desperate longing pulls at his face.

“Dimitri,” Byleth says, breathing the words against Dimitri’s forehead, “I want to. Won’t you allow me?”

Very carefully, Dimitri nods. 

Byleth hums his gratitude, dropping another kiss over the unseeing eye. Does it again and again at different angles until Dimitri is shaking with words unspoken. He drifts over to Dimitri’s mouth, pressing a kiss tentatively over his bottom lip. Dimitri chases when he pulls away, hunger burning in his eye. 

Byleth holds him at bay, feeling out a groan beneath his fingers, rumbling in Dimitri’s throat like a building lion’s roar, and nuzzles his face against the vulnerable skin.

“Professor,” whisper soft and half-dazed. 

“Shh, Dimitri,” Byleth soothes, “Sit still for me and let me work.”

Dimitri bows his head and obeys, blushing prettily when Byleth offers him another kiss as a reward. This time, he doesn’t chase, holding perfectly still as Byleth explores his face. For a long moment, Byleth indulges himself in the feel and weight of the prince beneath him, basking in the way Dimitri’s expression goes soft. 

The prince doesn’t resist when Byleth arranges him. He’s utterly silent as Byleth combs out his hair, submitting readily to the many minutes it takes Byleth to sort out the knots and messy tangles. By the time Byleth is done, Dimitri is laid out over the edge of the bath, his eye closed, expression peaceful. He rumbles in contentment as Byleth starts to scrub him down, offering the occasional sigh as Byleth massages out the tension in his arms. 

One eye opens in a thin slit as Byleth tracks lower. Something eager and wanting flickers over Dimitri’s face. A little flush of pleasure steals over his cheeks as Byleth cleans down his chest. His mouth twitches but he makes no demands.

For his part, Byleth does not ask as he moves down his hips, following the sharp curve until he is hovering over his cock. Dimitri’s stomach muscles flex but he makes no move to pull away. 

“Stop me if you’re uncomfortable,” Byleth says, rubbing his thighs in reassurance. 

Dimitri sets his jaw, huffing a sound like a scoff as he grabs Byleth’s hand, planting the palm firmly against his groin in silence. He hides part of his face in his other arm, one eye trained on Byleth as he works.  


He’s not unaffected. 

Far from. 

Byleth can feel him twitching, starting to harden despite Byleth’s attempts to keep the touch clinical. Dimitri’s teeth tick over his bottom lip as Byleth swipes under his balls and he outright whimpers when Byleth cleans along the shaft. 

Unthinking, Byleth squeezes.

A faint “yes” flutters in the air, delicate as summer fireflies and then much firmer, “ _Please._ ”

Byleth can't refuse the desperation in that plead. He strokes Dimitri slowly, aiming to lend as much pleasure as he can. His other hand treks over Dimitri’s body, toying with his nipples, soothing against his hip. He etches a nail over the sensitive skin of Dimitri’s balls, fascinated by the low moan that leaves Dimitri’s chest, twitching with a need to draw more. He tugs the foreskin back, rubs a thumb up the thick underbelly – 

“Professor–!” Dimitri bites off a moan, hips bucking mightily, groaning when Byleth squeezes his forefinger and thumb around the flushed head. 

A thick blurt of precum stains Byleth’s fingers, beading in the space between them, and he watches, mouth watering as he rubs the new wetness into the engorged flesh. The next slide is slicker. Better, given the way Dimitri whimpers and writhes over the edge of the bath. 

Dimitri’s moan is as intoxicating as any good drink. Pleasure cracks his expression wide and vulnerable. His stomach and biceps flex, finely honed muscle tensing beautifully as he leaks steadily in Byleth’s hand. His ass clenches tight when Byleth’s hand treks too far south. Dimitri whimpers as Byleth brushes over his opening. His eye widens, blue and brilliant as a winter morning, the dark in them blowing out as he utters a gasping plead into his arm.

“What was that?” 

Dimitri shakes his head. Hides.

Shoves his hip into Byleth’s hands as Byleth bears down on his taint. His toes curl in the water, thick thighs trembling as he fucks into the space Byleth provides.

“Dimitri, let me see your face.”

Another groan and a little shake of the head. He doesn’t move even when Byleth releases his cock, only goes rigid and displeased, breath rattling between his arms like the boar Felix dubbed him to be.

Byleth shoves him to the side, arranging them both so that Dimitri’s face is tucked into Byleth's neck instead of his own hands, wanting to at least feel Dimitri’s responses, if he could not see them. He twines his legs around Dimitri’s left thigh, holding him open, groaning softly when his own cock nudges against the dense muscle. With a little rush of eagerness, Dimitri flexes for him, leaning close in offer. He whines a question into Byleth’s neck when Byleth ignores it in favor of stroking him again.

“There’ll be time for me later. I’m taking care of you now,” Byleth says, shuddering as Dimitri mouths at his throat.

Byleth curves a hand under Dimitri’s jaw just to hold him, physically feeling out his cries as he strokes him from root to tip, squeezing his hand over the thick head, dragging fresh slick over the length with each pass, coaxing out more and more lurid noises and desperate groans until –

“Professor!” with a low sob, Dimitri comes, slamming his hips against Byleth’s hand, back arching as he buries his face into Byleth’s chest and shoots over his stomach. 

He trembles with the might of it, clinging to Byleth’s shoulders as he shudders through what looks like his first orgasm in years.

“Please,” Dimitri moans over and over.  


Byleth milks out the last of Dimitri’s pleasure, keeping his strokes long and even until Dimitri shakes apart in his grip, gasping and cringing away at the sensitivity, whining high in his throat as he bats clumsily at Byleth’s hand. It’s only when Dimitri is openly sobbing and shaking his head that Byleth relents. 

“Been a while for you?” Byleth asks, kissing the fine mist of sweat from Dimitri’s brow as he washes off the seed.

The man doesn’t answer, only paws weakly at Byleth’s hip and tries to hold him closer. A whine builds in his throat when Byleth pulls away and he doesn’t settle until Byleth reseats himself between Dimitri’s legs. 

Byleth hauls him out of the water by the hip, faintly amused when Dimitri flops gracelessly over the edge of the bath. He turns Dimitri with little trouble and scrubs down the mass of scars of his back, working over each muscle carefully until there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be left. Dimitri tenses again when Byleth’s hand drops down to his cheeks, shoving back into the touch, breath escaping in a harsh rasp. Byleth ignores the invitation with difficulty, cleaning quickly between Dimitri’s cheeks, paying no heed to the gnash of teeth when he moves on to Dimitri’s legs.

“Professor,” Dimitri grinds out, frowning mightily when Byleth rinses him off and sets him on the edge of the bath. Not even the kiss Byleth grants him is enough to soften the frown. 

It only builds as Dimitri watches Byleth scrub himself down. A hungry growl lights the air each time Byleth bends a little too far and when Byleth washes between his legs. For the most part, he ignores it, wanting to be done with himself sooner so he can turn his attention back on the prince. 

It’s not nearly speedy enough for Dimitri.

The prince grabs for him the second he steps towards the edge of the bath again, great bulk creeping over him protectively. With a sigh, Byleth leans into the hold, pressing his face to Dimitri’s throat and inhaling deep, enjoying the little thrum of pleasure in Dimitri at the move.

“You smell better,” he says and then presses a kiss to Dimitri’s jawline, “Much better.”

Dimitri looks at him with that same frown and then yanks a finger into his mouth, far enough he nearly gags on the digit. 

“Dimi –!” Byleth grimaces at the spiderweb of spit over his fingers, about to protest when Dimitri drags his hand downwards, pass his cock, pass his – 

“You missed a spot, Professor,” Dimitri accuses, his voice grave enough Byleth barks out a laugh. Dimitri scowls at the noise, bristling again and says angrier, with a little self-conscious hunch to his shoulders, “You … I’ve never known you to cut corners, Professor.”

“You’re right,” Byleth says, pressing his lips together against the hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat. He eases Dimitri back before the scowl darkens, offering him a kiss that ebbs away some of the frown, “You always were diligent enough to remind me whenever I forget a task. Such a good student.”

He slides a spit-slick digit into Dimitri before the man can retort, shivering at the slick heat of him, toying with him for a moment until Dimitri starts to shove back, expression twisted with concentration. He angles his hips, coaxes Byleth’s finger over something inside him and bucks on a groan.

“Have you ever – ?”

“Myself,” comes the curt reply and then a whispery moan when Byleth bears down on the area again. His cock lifts away from his hip, twitching as it tries to harden again. Dimitri bares his teeth, his eye glazed as he pants, “Another – now. I – _no!_ ”

Dimitri snarls like a feral beast when Byleth pulls out, crowding him against the wall of the bath, desperation slurring his words, “Professor, you promised – “

“You’re clean and you’ve had an orgasm already,” Byleth says, batting him aside, ignoring the coil of heat in his belly at the frantic need in Dimitri’s eye, “You may have more once we get a meal in you.”

He kisses Dimitri again as a consolation, holding him gently by the face as he licks into his mouth.

“I intend to meet your every need, Dimitri,” Byleth promises, pressing one final kiss to the corner of Dimitri’s mouth, smiling when the man twists to catch it full on his lips, “After all, I’ve never been the sort to cut corners.”

Dimitri nods, sullenly agreeable, and lets Byleth lead him. The morose look stays on his face. Byleth finds it charmingly adorable but does not comment, instead, busying himself hunting down pants. He’s surprised to find two pairs that look suspiciously like Sylvain’s in the changing room outside and hopes Sylvain hadn’t been here minutes ago.  He can only imagine the gossip. 

A problem for another day.

Byleth leaves their dirty clothes in the baths, tossing them in water to soak, and leaves the armor pieces outside after patting them dry. 

The storm has ebbed some but not much. Byleth guides the two of them to his room instead of attempting the further trek to Dimitri’s. There are two platters on his table, the dishes neatly covered and wrapped in Mercedes’ handkerchief. 

His students were getting better at surprising him. Byleth tosses out a mental thanks to all of them as he nudges aside the singular chair, smiling at the note Mercedes had left. He’s missed the little cards she would tie on her gifted cookies.

“Professor,” Dimitri grumbles, a fierce glower on his face as he looks at the card in Byleth’s hand, “I’m hungry.”

“Of course you are,” Byleth says agreeably. He hides the card out of sight beneath a plate and angles a kiss on Dimitri’s mouth before retrieving a pillow from his bed. He drops it to the ground in front of his chair as he takes a seat, “Sit, I’ll feed you.”

Dimitri goes wide-eyed, a little noise caught in his throat as he looks from the pillow to Byleth. Does it again as if he expects to see something else there at the second glance. A little tremor of eagerness goes through him but he does not move.

“I can’t exactly feed you standing up,” Byleth explains. Still no movement, “ _Down_ Dimitri.”

Dimitri quivers, practically shaking out of his skin as he goes. He averts his eyes almost shyly when the move brings him face to face with Byleth’s groin and then tilts his head cautiously into Byleth's lap. He bites at his bottom lip. Starts to readjust. He makes small incremental movements that slowly build into outright nuzzling, nosing against Byleth’s stomach and thigh, his eye wide and incredulous. 

Byleth lays a foot in Dimitri’s lap to settle him, then tugs at his hair and rearranges Dimitri’s cheek to the inside of his thigh, pleased when Dimitri stills. Byleth pets Dimitri’s hair idly as he uncovers the food.

It’s simple fare. Wartime meals are a stark contrast to the lavish academy dining hall meals but nothing he’s not accustomed to from his mercenary days. He tears apart a piece of hard bread and dunks it in the soup to soften before feeding it to Dimitri who takes it between his teeth delicately. The prince rumbles with something like pleasure, lashes fluttering as he chews. Byleth tears a piece of poultry and feeds him the same way. Dimitri’s teeth clip lightly over his index finger for the meat, one large hand coming up to curve over the back of Byleth’s palm as he takes his meal. His breath hitches a little over Byleth’s fingers and then tentatively, he licks at the pad of Byleth’s thumb, dabbing away at a little smear of grease. 

He trembles a little harder when Byleth pets him, breath shaky beneath Byleth’s lowly amused, “How sweet of you.” 

Byleth feeds him in between bites of his own meal, pausing every now and again to comb out Dimitri’s hair and let him lick the crumbs from Byleth’s fingertips, making little noises of encouragement each time Dimitri does. 

“Full?” Byleth asks when the soup and chicken are gone. 

Dimitri blinks up at him, his expression glazed and not quite present. He’s dreamy and drifting, looking as if he would be content to stay at Byleth’s feet forever. The war a distant dream instead of an all-encompassing reality.  


Good, Byleth decides and kisses his prince just to see the soft smile on his face. 

"Full?" Byleth asks again. 

Dimitri ponders for a moment and then shrugs a shoulder, burying his face into Byleth’s thigh, his shoulders hunching as he nestles close.

“Not quite or can’t tell?”

Dimitri’s mouth flattens at the question and Byleth dislikes the way the gentle expression starts to lift from his face.

“Squeeze my thigh once if you’re full,” Byleth says, patting his hair and scratching down a long line down his neck. The expression comes back, drifting and loose as Dimitri’s head lolls in Byleth’s lap, “Twice if you cannot tell.”

Two squeezes.

Hm. 

Byleth reaches down, feeling out Dimitri’s chest and stomach, kissing him gently when Dimitri turns his face up in search. He spends a moment petting him. His lion prince pushes up into the touch, rumbling deep in his chest at every touch, entire body unrolling readily to soak up the feel of Byleth. 

“Do you feel hungry though?” Byleth asks, “Once for yes. Twice for no.”

Another two squeezes.

“Okay, just something to finish your meal then…what is it – an aperitif?” Byleth wrinkles his nose. Maybe he’d reversed it. Seteth would have bemoaned the fact that the dining lessons had not stuck. But Dimitri snickers and smiles up at him so Byleth doesn’t care too much. 

He cups Dimitri’s jaw to tilt him upwards and feeds him a slow mouthful of tea before cracking open a Noa fruit. The juice trickles down his wrist. He licks at it absently until he spies Dimitri’s longing expression. 

“Here,” Byleth says, holding his hand out to Dimitri instead. 

The prince shudders. He starts with tentative licks but fast leans into the motion, dragging his tongue over the palm in long careful strokes, swiping away every droplet dutifully before sucking a digit into his mouth. His gaze is almost playful as he rounds out his lips, cheeks hollowing out – 

Byleth groans at the feel, withdrawing, heat curling in his stomach as Dimitri nuzzles into his lap with a faint knowing smile. Byleth tweaks his nipple in reprimand.

“Cheeky,” Byleth accuses.

Dimitri doesn’t respond, only smiles and accepts a few more pieces of fruit from Byleth’s hand between sips of tea. When they’re done, Byleth lets Dimitri clean him up again, leaning back to pet his hair all the while until Dimitri’s eye starts to droop. 

The exhaustion that creeps over his shoulders differs from the way he’d collapsed in the rain. The grief that hounds him has faded before the bright dreamy place he’s currently in.

It’s probably a good time to set him to bed. If they’re lucky, the nightmares won’t touch him tonight. And if they’re not, Byleth has every intention of holding him through those tonight. 

“Come,” Byleth guides him over to the bed and lays him down. 

He expects Dimitri to fall asleep immediately but he does not. Instead, Dimitri blinks up at him with bright eager eyes, his hands hovering over the waistband of his pants as he flashes Byleth a pleading look. 

“Oh - I did promise, didn’t I?” Byleth remembers, leaning over him to drop another kiss on his mouth and the returning smile is brilliant and adoring. 

He removes Dimitri’s pants and then fetches the vial of oil from his nightstand. Dimitri tugs at Byleth’s waistband, mouth turned down in a little pout Byleth kisses off before casting his own pants on the floor beside Dimitri’s.

Satisfied, Dimitri lies back, long arms stretching out above his head. He hums, eyes sliding closed as Byleth strokes him to full hardness, knees falling further apart when Byleth’s hand glides downwards, helpfully hitching his hips. A full groan rumbles his chest, stirring from somewhere deep in his belly when Byleth breaches him. He squeezes down cautiously and then does it again, a moan hanging on his tongue as Byleth toys with him, working him until he is accustomed to the stretch and sensitive. Dimitri watches the movement between his legs with a lazy satisfaction, practically purring when Byleth nudges his prostate. 

“Ah–“ Dimitri groans, spreading his legs further when Byleth grants him a second digit, turning his head to the ceiling as he cries out his pleasure. 

He’s so beautiful like this. Open and adoring. Byleth wants to keep him this way. Hide him away from war and battlefields, shield him from more senseless death.

He couldn’t, of course.

But he could keep him for tonight at least.

Byleth leans over him, kissing him sweetly over and over until his own head swims with pleasure, dizzy and drunk off the taste of Dimitri. 

“So beautiful, Dimitri,” Byleth purrs, curling his fist tighter over the crown of Dimitri’s cock, punctuating the compliment with a little twist of his hand. 

Dimitri bucks, eyes squeezing shut. A wicked moan spins the air as Byleth starts to stroke him in time with his thrusts. Dimitri all but melts into the bedspread, glorious in his pleasure. His pretty mouth is bitten red, his cheeks and throat rosy, his breathing low and gasping, hitching on a rounded vowel, spinning the sound into the air –

“So beautiful,” Byleth says again, leaning in to bite at a nipple, feeling Dimitri’s entire body draw up tight when he gentles the bite with his tongue. 

Byleth leaves a trail of little marks from one nipple to the other, works a few more into Dimitri's chest when he moans in encouragement,intoxicated by the readiness that drips off the prince’s trembling form. 

He presses his thumb to Dimitri’s taint as he curls his fingers inside, seeking out –

Dimitri howls, bucking wildly as he’s toyed with, entire body going tense, orgasm trembling over his skin. His muscles bunch as he hovers on the very edge. Byleth licks the exertion from Dimitri’s brow, drowning in his heat, smiling when Dimitri’s mouth finds his. Such a beautifully needy thing. All Byleth’s to care for. 

“Go on,” Byleth encourages over Dimitri’s whining gasp, quickening his strokes until Dimitri’s thighs tremble, “Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”

With a sob, Dimitri throws himself into the non-order, gasping wetly as he thrusts into Byleth’s grip, alternating between fingers and fist, blindly chasing his pleasure with thick wordless groans. He comes over his chest and stomach in thick splatters, his heels digging into the sheets hard as his thighs tremble all around Byleth, shoving up hard enough he bucks into Byleth’s stomach, smearing his spend over Byleth's lower belly.  


Dimitri whines at the sight and snatches at Byleth with shaking hands, moving before his orgasm can settle. He sets his mouth to Byleth’s chest, licking down in one clean sweep low over –

Byleth goes shock still, blood rushing southwards as Dimitri cleans up his own come with his mouth. 

“Dimitri –!” Byleth hisses when Dimitri takes him into his mouth, fisting his hand tight into Dimitri’s golden locks. Fire twists through him, burning at the base of his spine, hips bucking despite himself as –

As he’d done with Byleth’s fingers, Dimitri sucks him down to the root, rounding out his mouth and sucking hard –

“Fuck – Dimitri, you don’t–“

Large hands grope at Byleth’s hips, drift around to curve his ass, holding firmly. Dimitri’s eye blazes at him as he rocks Byleth’s hips, a loud purposeful moan rumbling against the underbelly of Byleth’s cock, loosening all protests –

With a bitten snarl, Byleth takes the offer for what it is. He holds Dimitri steady, rocking his hips slow and easy in long thrusts, curving his hand at the base of Dimitri’s skull to hold him open. The prince is clumsy with this but eager. He watches intently as he does on battlefields gauging weakness, catching each gasp and moan, testing out each motion that brought about the noise and repeating it until Byleth could think of nothing but heat and pleasure and –

“I’m going –“

Heat rushes up Byleth’s spine in twin trails, fierce lightning shuddering through him, drawing him tight and twisting him higher –

Dimitri doubles his efforts, pulling back just over the tip, curving his mouth in a faint smile as he suckles and toys with the slit, curling his tongue over – 

With a harsh gasp, Byleth comes in Dimitri’s mouth, pleasure curving his spine, dropping him over Dimitri's enormous bulk, uttering a low cry over Dimitri's shoulders, shuddering as the prince cleans him up as dutifully as he’d licked fruit from Byleth’s fingers. 

Unable to think, Byleth only pets him through it, his elbows propped on the prince’s back, panting out the last of his pleasure until the wet heat of Dimitri’s mouth became too much and he has to pull away, shivering and oversensitive.

Dimitri doesn’t whine when he’s pushed away, instead, busying himself with Byleth’s fingers as he waits for Byleth’s pleasure to settle, cleaning cum with the care of a knight checking over his armor and that –

“I might need another if you keep that up,” Byleth huffs as a threat. 

Despite the sleepiness that’d drooped over Dimitri’s shoulders, he brightens at the notion. With a little eager glimmer to his eyes, he swipes his fingers over the mess on his own stomach. Twines his fingers with Byleth’s. And takes them both down to –

“ _Please_ ,” Byleth bemoans, closing his eyes, unable to look.

Dimitri’s snicker is brilliant and bright. As joyous as the drunk slovenly songs of Byleth’s old mercenary band. He wants to hold it forever.

“Go to sleep,” Byleth says instead of a silly promise for forever. He snatches up a pair of pants from the floor to clean up Dimitri’s stomach.

Dimitri pouts at him for it but he nuzzles close, settling against Byleth’s bicep as he starts to drift but refusing to fall asleep, sighing a little sadly as Byleth curves a hand over his cheek and hums a little lullaby heard in a Kingdom tavern.

They both seem to understand today cannot last forever. 

Tomorrow would mean more warfare. More strategies and plots. More tasks to be done. Armies to be built. More maps with figures in place of soldiers. Knights to be commanded and a king who … who – 

“Thank you,” Dimitri whispers and it sounds like a different Dimitri, someone Byleth recognizes but doesn’t, someone crawling out from beneath the murk and grime of warfare and grief, clinging tight to Byleth’s hand. Dimitri’s last words for the day hitch on a little sob, slurring at the edges, “Thank you.”

Byleth curls an arm protectively over Dimitri’s bulk, holding him to his chest as he falls asleep, dreaming of the king he was meant to carry and care for. 

**Author's Note:**

> Dima: what if you pet my hair and bathed me ... and fed me ... and gave me SOF orgasms ... haha jk ... unless?
> 
> \-----
> 
> Been torn between sketching and writing more for the past few weeks. Still working on the next chap of the twin!fic (hopefully next week ; o ;)
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated <3\. Thanks for reading!


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